


Justice

by coffeeandchocolate



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Extended Universe
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9815681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeandchocolate/pseuds/coffeeandchocolate
Summary: Bruce through Diana's eyes over the years.





	

There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say, that would ease this woman’s pain, make her grief easier to shoulder. The man she loved had died a warrior’s death, had done so protecting the people of his world, but it would do no good to point that out.

Diana hated feeling helpless.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Bruce. He was staring at Lois, not moving. His expression was inscrutable, but the set of his shoulders, hunched a little bit inwards, and his unblinking eyes told her everything she needed to know. He too knew this grief.

How young they both were, she mused to herself, to lose this much.

She had experienced losses of her own, yes, but over the decades, the raw pain had faded. Sometimes, she still missed those friends. What must it be like to experience such a loss as a mortal? Was it even possible to recover from such a thing, in the short time they had?

Bruce rose from his chair and approached Lois, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She looked up at him questioningly, no longer crying, but her face still damp with tears, strands of hair stuck to her cheeks. He murmured something to her softly, and squeezed her shoulder. She nodded and managed a faint smile. He left. Diana remained seated for a moment, glancing back at Lois, then made her decision. She got up and went after him. 

* * *

“A story for a story,” Diana smiled. “You start.”

Bruce was silent for a long moment, and just when she thought he wouldn’t respond, he did. His voice was quiet and more hesitant than she’d ever heard it. She stayed very, very still and quiet, irrationally afraid that if she so much as breathed in the wrong way, he’d stop.

“A long time ago, my…my son and I, we used to go to the circus together sometimes. He loved the elephants, fed them treats.” A rueful smile flashed across Bruce’s face. He was looking past her, lost in memories, mind somewhere far away. “He loved everything about the place. Being there, it made him…very happy. I’d have given anything to be able to take him more often. He loved the trapeze, once said it was the closest he could come to flying. None of the people at the circus came even close to being as good as him, but he still could never take his eyes off of them.”

His mouth twisted suddenly at that last sentence, as if he didn’t think it was something to be happy about.

It hadn’t been long since they’d met, but they’d been through a lot in that short time. It had somehow never occurred to her that the man might have children.

They were allies, she and Bruce, something close to friends even, but they really knew very little about each other.

He offered her a wry, half smile. “Your turn.”

She hadn’t thought about how hard it would be to share when she had suggested they swap stories. What could she say? There was nothing she could think to say that was inconsequential, nothing that didn’t suddenly seem very personal.

She inhaled sharply, then took a leap of faith.

“The first time I ever flew a plane was nearly a hundred years ago,” she said, and somehow, despite all the pain and sorrow and loss, the wonder of that memory brought a small smile to her mouth. “I had never left Themyscira before, had no idea what the outside world was like. All of it was so new. But flying that plane, it was wonderful.” 

* * *

Bruce wore his heart on his sleeve, but he wasn’t good at talking. She could tell from his face every time he stumbled through a story about his son how much he loved him, missed him, and yet those stories were all disjointed, seemingly random memories, and never once did he describe more than the basic facts.

Diana had read articles about both Bruce Wayne and the Batman. So many people saw different things in him, some that she did as well and others she didn’t. But it wasn’t until one day in Metropolis two weeks after Clark’s funeral that she managed to string some of those pieces together into something coherent.

They were walking through the financial district when Bruce stopped, attention going to a man in his early thirties sitting on a bench with a girl that looked no older than seven. He strode over to them, suddenly purposeful, without saying a word. Diana followed, confused but curious.

"Bruce," he said, offering the man his hand. "I'm...I'm sorry for your loss. Both of you."

The man shook the proffered hand, seemingly automatically. "John. I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne, have we met before?"

"Ah, no," Bruce said. He gestured to the girl who was staring at him with wide eyes. "We have, though. A year and a half ago. I saw you and thought I'd stop to check in."

"Oh. Oh!" John's eyes widened as he understood. "Thank you. She's doing okay, right, sweetie?"

The girl nodded minutely. Bruce turned his attention to her, asking her questions quietly.

And with that, Diana understood another part of Bruce Wayne.

* * *

She smiled up at the ceiling as she settled in the chair. “It’s good to see you again, Bruce.”

“And you, Princess.”

She started at the address, wondering for an instant if it had been intended as some sort of insult. But no – when she looked at Bruce, his face betrayed no sense of mockery or malice. They remained there in comfortable silence for a while until Bruce got up.

"Car's ready," he said, and Diana smiled at him.

“So,” she teased, “are you going to let me drive?”

She was almost surprised when he tossed her the keys, but she recovered quickly, sliding into the driver’s seat and resisting the urge to laugh with delight.

This was ridiculous, but she was finding that she was having more fun than she had in decades. “So to Central City, then?”

He nodded. "To Barry Allen."

* * *

 “Diana,” she said, offering her hand. He beamed and shook it enthusiastically, practically vibrating on the spot with excitement.

“Barry Allen,” he replied. “But you probably knew that.”

“Yes, we –” Bruce started to say, but Barry interrupted him, unable to stay still or quiet.

“This is _so cool!_ ” he exclaimed. “You’re Batman! And you’re Wonder Woman!”

She and Bruce exchanged a look, but Barry kept talking. “Is there anything you need? What’s going on, do you need help with forensic stuff or something?”

“No,” Bruce managed. “We’re here about something else.”

Diana handed Barry the file. “We’re here to ask if you’d be interested in a…team up. Your skills could prove useful.”

Barry looked up from flipping through the documents. His eyes widened, and he pointed at himself. “Me? You want my help?”

She nodded.

“Oh, _hell yes,_ ” he said, eyes shining.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Just like that?”

Barry cracked a surprisingly endearing grin, all boyish charm and mild self-deprecation. “I need…friends.” 

* * *

In the time since they had met, Diana had seen many expressions on Bruce’s face. Anger. Fear. Sadness. But this was different, and she didn’t know what to make of it. The closest she could think of was _amazement._

He scrambled to answer the call.

“Dick?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

The response was loud enough to make even Diana, several feet away from him, wince. Bruce’s grip tightened on the phone.

“Bruce, what the _hell._ I’ve been trying to reach you for the past week, what is wrong with you?!” The voice was that of a young man, filled with furious concern and very clearly audible.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Bruce said. “I’m sorry. I’m fine, I promise, I just wasn’t thinking. If…if you’d like, we can meet tomorrow, for lunch? I’ll send you my location.”

Dick was silent for a while. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter and tightly controlled, the rage gone, but a hard edge to his tone. “I called Alfred as soon as I heard. He told me you were fine. Now I have confirmation. We don’t have to go for lunch.”

“Wait, Dick, please,” Bruce blurted out. “I…if you want to talk, anytime, I promise I’ll answer.”

“Bruce.” Dick’s voice had softened a little now, quiet enough that Diana could barely hear him. “Not now, okay? Just...stop doing things like this. Bye.”

Bruce’s face fell. He lowered the phone from his ear and stared at it for a moment, then made another call.

“Alfred?” he asked. “You spoke to Dick? How is he?”

“Hello, Alfred, how are you?” came the dry reply in a man’s voice tinged with an English accent. “Oh, I’m well, thank you, sir, and yourself?”

Bruce exhaled through his nose. “Sorry. Hi, Alfred. How’s Dick?”

“Master Dick is just fine. Concerned about you, of course, but in good health.”

Bruce visibly relaxed. “Good. Good. That’s good.”

“Really, Master Bruce, call your son,” Alfred said. “Heaven knows you’ve been wanting to for years now.”

Diana couldn’t tell what the expression on Bruce’s face was. It looked to be somewhere between agony and delight, a cross between a grimace and a grin.

“Bye, Alfred,” he said, voice a little strained, and ended the call, dropping his phone on the table. 

* * *

“Alfred used to say that no one could resist Dick’s smile,” Bruce mused, a half smile on his own face. “He could talk anyone into anything. He called it the old Grayson charm.”

She snagged his phone from the table, then sat down next to him. “Tell me more?”

“He was always a performer,” Bruce told her, almost but not quite leaning into her side. “Gifted at it. I should have been more prepared for him leaving. He was born to be in the centre ring, he was never going to be able to work with me forever. He needed a change so that he could be seen as his own hero.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, lost in memories of a time long before he had ever met Diana, memories of a son and a family and a whole different life.

“Call your son, Bruce,” Diana said, pressing the phone into his hand. “I may not know everything that happened between you, but I _do_ know that you miss him.”

 _Just like everyone else that listens to you for more than five minutes,_ she thought.

Bruce glanced down at the phone, fingers clenching around it tightly. Then he got up jerkily, and left the room to make the call. He returned not long after. Diana looked up at him expectantly.

 "Well?"

“We’re…he said he’ll meet me for dinner on Friday. You can join us, if you’d like,” Bruce said. “I’m sure Dick would like to meet you.”

It was a tempting offer. Diana wanted to meet Dick as well, just to see who the person Bruce spoke of in such glowing terms really was. But…

“Thank you, but another time,” she answered. “I know you want to spend time with him, Bruce. Go.” 

* * *

Bruce came back from dinner with a small smile on his face. Perhaps he and Dick hadn’t resolved any of their issues, but they had still seen each other again, and that was clearly enough to make Bruce happy.

Diana didn’t meet Dick until two months later. 

She hadn’t known what to expect. Bruce had painted a picture of someone larger than life, someone brave and funny, smart and compassionate, loving and brilliant. It had been impossible for her to really visualize Dick Grayson.

Bruce’s son was good looking with dark hair and strikingly blue eyes, both shorter and slimmer than Bruce. He offered her a quick, startlingly bright grin. She tentatively returned it.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Dick.”                                                

Robin, Batman’s trusted partner. Dick, Bruce’s beloved son.

“Diana,” she managed to say, and reached out to shake his hand. 

* * *

“What do you want me to _do,_ Bruce?” Dick all but shouted. “I feel just as guilty about Jason as you do. Robin was _mine._ My name, my mask! He was trying to be _me._ If I hadn’t left, he would never have died! But it’s been _ten years._ I cannot spend the rest of my life dwelling on the past, and neither can you.”

“I know,” Bruce cut in, but Dick wasn’t done.

“Do you even see yourself these days, it’s unhealthy – wait, you know?” Dick stopped and stared at his adoptive father. “Explain.”

Bruce nodded slowly. “The bat once stood for something. After Jason…I was angry. I lost sight of what we fight for, of what matters. It’s time I got back to that.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “I know I should have said this a long time ago, but…I’m sorry. For everything.”

Dick looked stunned. It took a few moments, but a brilliant smile slowly spread across his face. He strode forward and pulled Bruce into a hug. Bruce’s arms folded around the younger man. 

* * *

The change in Bruce since he had met with Dick was almost unbelievable, as if he were Atlas and the weight of the sky itself had just been lifted from his shoulders, as if reconciliation with his son was all that he had ever wanted.

“You’re cheating,” he accused, glaring down at his cards. She smirked at him.

“Maybe you just don’t have as good of a poker face as you think you do,” she offered, laying her cards down face up. “I win.”

It wasn’t that Bruce was suddenly an entirely different person. He still had days where he barely said a word, lost in thoughts or memories, even when the average day now had him far more willing to smile than two weeks before. She understood. She had those as well.

But now they were sharing their stories, beyond the superficial. He told her about his parents, about Alfred, about first taking in Dick. She told him about Themyscira and Steve and her family. And when she asked about Jason, he answered.

“Jason was my second son,” Bruce admitted. “He was murdered.”

And he told her.

He told her about a child in Crime Alley, about the Batmobile’s tires, about loneliness and a second child. He told her about a young boy’s goodness and bravery and delight at being made Robin. He told her about the Joker.

She found herself sitting completely still, barely even breathing as he, in a completely flat tone, relayed his story of a warehouse in Ethiopia. When he finally fell silent, they sat there without speaking or moving for a brief moment before she reached out to cover his hand with her own.

“You’ve never told me why you left it all behind,” Bruce said, breaking the silence eventually. “For a century.”

Diana sighed. “You know your history. The Great War opened my eyes. I wanted to help humanity, but how am I supposed to do that when its greatest enemy is itself? From what I’ve read about you, you put down the cowl for a while after Jason, too.”

He nodded slowly. They sat there together in silence for a while before he got to his feet and moved back to where his files were spread across the table, as if nothing had happened at all. 

* * *

“Are you Victor Stone?” Diana asked. He nodded, yanking the sleeve of his oversized sweatshirt further down.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Why?”

“Diana,” she said instead of answering, holding out her hand for him to shake. He looked down at it for a moment before slowly taking it with his right, the one of flesh and bone.

“We need your help."

He wasn't quite as easy to convince as Barry had been. He was warier, less eager to please. But he also wasn't going to risk the world by not taking them seriously.

“Will you stop spreading your stuff everywhere?!” Victor complained from the backseat of the  car twenty minutes later, tossing Barry’s sweatshirt onto his lap. “And change the song, what are we even listening to?”

“How about you stop complaining about everything? That was a sweater! It’s soft, what’s the big deal?”

“Maybe if you weren’t so short, you’d get –”

“I’m not _short,_ just because I’m not a _giant…_ ”

Diana and Bruce exchanged a look. She started tapping her fingers against the centre console. He let out a testy sigh.

* * *

“Thank you for the invitation,” Arthur said. “But I’m not interested.”

“You could do a lot of good,” Diana reminded him, and he fixed a cool stare on her.

“I’m doing a lot of good at home,” he said. “I have a country to run. Shouldn’t you be doing the same?”

That stung.

“Themyscira will be fine without me for a while longer,” she answered. “The humans need us more than our own people do right now.”

“I said no,” he said, and now there was a harder edge in his tone. Diana found herself tensing up, readying for a fight.

“All right,” she conceded. “Then let me know when you change your mind.”

She pretended she didn’t hear his scoff and walked away.

Arthur eventually said yes, as they'd been sure he would. And there it was - all of the people Lex Luthor had discovered and studied. All working together out of necessity, but not quite trust.

It was a start.

* * *

Clark Kent returned to them on a Sunday.

It wasn’t easy for him. He was alive, but to the world, Clark Kent had died long before. He couldn’t return to his old life.

They managed to get to know each other. It was awkward and stumbling, but this was a team that had been assembled in Clark’s honour. It took a while, but the trust came.

Dick worked with them for a while, but he left not too long after Clark's resurrection, citing his need to return to Blüdhaven.

“There’s always a place for you here,” Bruce said quietly as his son prepared to leave, hand firmly on Dick’s shoulder. Dick nodded pensively.

“I know,” he said, “thanks. But I’m not a kid anymore. I can’t just spend my life following you around. I need to be my own hero. If you need me, just call.”

"I will," Bruce promised. 

* * *

Gotham was personal to Bruce. It was more than a place to him, anyone that looked at him could tell that. His love for his city was obvious with every word he said about it, with the expressions on his face as he gazed out upon it, with the way he stopped to make sure every civilian was safe.

Children did not fear the Batman. That much wasn’t surprising – Diana knew Bruce, and Diana knew that he would never harm a child. They had nothing to fear from him.

No, what did surprise her was that most adults weren’t afraid of him either.

Bruce may have returned to being the man he had, according to all reports, once been, but the adults could read the papers and could remember. They knew how brutal and violent he had been for a time, how hard it had become for him to separate right from wrong, how he had gone so far as to brand those he had deemed the worst of the worst with his bat. And yet, those of them that were not criminals didn’t fear him.

But she could see why.

“Come on,” Bruce grunted. “I’m doing you a favour, Metropolis doesn’t have any decent Chinese places.”

He yanked open the door and gestured for Clark and Diana to enter. He followed and held up three fingers to the woman behind the counter. She smiled and nodded, coming around and seating them.

“The usual?” she asked, and Bruce nodded, flashing a smile. It looked bizarre, almost frightening, to see the Batman smiling. Clark choked.

“Times three,” Bruce added. The woman nodded again and retreated. They fell silent for a while, not speaking until their food arrived.

“Just use a fork, you’re embarrassing me,” Bruce ordered after a few minutes, reaching out to snatch away the chopsticks Clark was fumbling with. Diana laughed, using her own to snag a dumpling from Clark’s plate.

“I’m from Kansas,” Clark said defensively. “I’ll figure it out.”

* * *

It was easy to tell when Bruce had gotten in a fight with Dick. They were alike in far more ways than they were different, both just as stubborn and persistent. It was also easy to tell when he’d had a bad night. But this was something different.

“What’s wrong?” Barry asked. Bruce just stormed past him. Diana and Clark glanced at each other. Together, they got up and followed him.

“Bruce – _Bruce_ ,” Clark said when they caught up, grabbing his arm. “What’s going on?”

“Let go of me,” Bruce ordered through gritted teeth. Clark did, but didn’t back away.

“Bruce,” Diana said, fixing a stern glare on him. “Stop. Tell us what’s wrong.”

And so he told them.

Told them about Ra’s al Ghul and the League of Assassins. About Talia and Lazarus Pits.

Told them about what Talia had done.

Bruce rarely spoke of his second son. Diana had been in the Batcave, and she remembered the Robin costume in its glass case, still vandalized with writing, as if it would be frozen like that forever. She knew how heavily the memory of Jason Todd weighed on her friend, how the ghost of his presence had never left. And yet, Bruce barely ever so much as mentioned his name.

She knew what had happened to him. She knew, in general, the kind of person he had been, could see how much the guilt over what had happened to him plagued Bruce. This…

Diana hugged her friend tightly. “I’m so sorry.” 

* * *

A lot happened over the course of the next few months. Diana met a lot of people. Tim Drake. Jason Todd. Cassandra Cain. Stephanie Brown. Kate Kane. Selina Kyle. Barbara Gordon.

Barbara founded the Birds of Prey. Batman and Red Hood reached an uneasy peace.

Bruce and Jason called a truce when Cass turned twenty-three.

They fought constantly, but they could make peace for one day for the sake of family.

Diana walked into the manor to find a gaggle of people standing by the door and arguing.

Jason threw up his hands in disgust. “Are you people fucking _kidding_ me?! These two are even worse than the Replacement!”

“Who, _us_?” Dick asked, making a face and gesturing to himself and Cass. Cass nodded sagely, barely managing to keep a straight face. “What have we ever done? We mess up so much less than anyone else.”

Dick slung his arm around his little sister and they both beamed. She lifted her cheek towards him expectantly; he dropped a quick peck onto it. “Happy birthday, Cassie.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Diana couldn’t help but smile. She offered Cass the gift she had brought.

“Happy birthday, Cassandra,” she said. Cass accepted the present and gave her a hug without opening it.

 _Thank you,_ the girl signed at her.

 _You’re welcome,_ Diana signed back. 

* * *

Bruce was in the Watchtower when she arrived that evening.

“Shouldn’t you be with your daughter right now?” she admonished him, and he shook his head.

“Dick and Cassie went to the ballet,” Bruce said, focused on his monitor. He smiled a little – softly, fondly. “Cinderella, I think. He signed her up for lessons a while back. She loves it.”

Diana smiled at that herself. Of course Cass loved dance, how could she not? Her first language was movement, and for most of her life, violence was all she had known. Ballet was different, a new dialect of the language the girl knew so well.

She squeezed her friend’s shoulder and sat down next to him. “How are they?”

He told her. About Cass's hobbies and Tim's brilliance. About Dick and about Jason and about how when the four of them worked together, they could accomplish anything. He may have been a hero to the citizens of Gotham and a terror to the villains he fought, a trusted ally and a good friend to her, but at times like this, all Diana could see when she looked at Bruce Wayne was a doting father.

She smiled and sat back, enjoying the stories.

* * *

It never stopped.

Shortly after Cassandra’s birthday, Damian appeared. Bruce disappeared. Dick took up the cowl. Tim scoured the world. Bruce reappeared. 

Time passed.

Heroes came and went; villains and crises continued to strike, and all the while, they kept fighting.

As the years went on, the grey at Bruce’s temples spread further. The once fine lines around his eyes deepened. He grew slower.

In a team filled with gods and aliens and metahumans, it was sometimes easy to forget that the Batman was just a man, whose only superpower was his extraordinary will.

At first, they all overlooked the signs. But they were impossible to miss forever. Not when Bruce had begun to forget questions almost as soon as they were posed to him, when an ordinary street criminal had nearly killed him. And once they noticed, they noticed everything - the way his movements had slowed, the uncharacteristic clumsiness in his movements, the persistent forgetfulness.

It was time for the Bat of Gotham to hang up his cape for the last time.

* * *

Diana couldn’t stop herself from returning to Gotham now. She and Clark took turns – when she visited Bruce, he’d visit Dick, and vice versa. That night, Gotham was quiet, and she found Dick on top of Wayne Tower.

Dick had always been _light._ He had fought in the darkness, just like Bruce, had long ago mastered that ability to emerge from and disappear into the shadows, but he had never _been_ dark.

From the bright reds and greens of his Robin costume, to the brilliance of his smile that could light up a room, to the shocking blue against black of what he wore as Nightwing, Dick had always radiated life and colour and joy.

Now, wearing the Batman cowl and sitting at the edge of the rooftop, shoulders slumped and not moving, he just looked sad and tired. Defeated. Alone.

Dick was a talker. It was one of the ways in which he differed from his family. It wasn’t that he shared everything, or talked to everyone. But he expressed himself through spoken words and through movement and he needed to do that. To someone, some of the time.

And right now, that could be her.

He pulled off the cowl as she sat next to him, turning to look at her. His hair was tousled, and for a moment, he looked very young. “Hi, Diana.”

“Hello, Dick.” She paused. “What are you thinking about?”

“Batman was once an urban legend,” Dick told her. “When he first started out. Robin changed that. I became his partner almost as soon as he became Batman, really. When that happened…I think part of the reason he stopped letting the world think he was a myth was for me. I’m a performer. It’s what I was born to be. I need the attention, the eyes on me, people knowing I’m there and seeing what I can do. I think it was helpful, for Gotham. To know we were real, that there were people fighting for them.”

She caught herself staring at him, at his profile as he looked out into the night. He was as handsome as he’d always been, but no one could miss the expression on his face, or mistake it for anything else.

The world was full of people that knew and had known, loved and had loved, Dick Grayson. Full of people that believed in Batman and Robin. Believed in Nightwing. And despite that, he still looked lonely.

“The bat is hope for the people of Gotham,” Dick said, tracing the outline of the symbol onto the roof with his gloved fingertip. “Not…not like Clark is, not that kind of optimism. But when people from this city saw Batman, they saw one of them. Someone from Gotham, someone resilient, someone jaded, someone cynical. Someone that had lost someone important. Before him, they didn’t have anyone fighting for them, and they didn’t think Batman would continue to do it for long. But he kept fighting for the city. Protecting it as Bruce Wayne and Batman. He got more and more allies over time. Robins, Batgirls. It gave the people something to believe in again.

“When people from outside look at Batman, they see fear. But not the regular citizens from Gotham. They understand him. More than that, they know him. He may terrify criminals, but regular people know that he’d never hurt them.”

Diana sat next to him and squeezed his shoulder. “I remember visiting here, sometimes with Clark. Believe me, I know how much Bruce loves it. He took us for gelato a few times. He knew the shopkeeper’s name, and the shopkeeper knew his order.”

She smiled. “Not that that was hard – it never changed, and I suppose it would be difficult to forget the preference of a man dressed as a giant bat.”

Dick laughed a small, sad laugh. “It’s hard to believe that this is Bruce. This is the same guy that always remembered the tiny details, same guy that made it a point to know everything about everyone. He…he didn’t recognize Tim yesterday.”

He clenched his fists tightly, struggling to keep his breath even. “Di, is it wrong that I’m glad he still knows me? He still remembers me, my face and what we’ve done together, the first time we met. I should want him to remember Tim instead.”

Diana folded him into her arms tightly, stroking his hair with one hand. “Of course not. You’re his eldest child, Dick, and you love him. It is not wrong to be glad that he still knows who you are. You are not selfish.”

Dick, always so brave and animated and cheerful, was shaking a little.

“I should want to be there with him, shouldn’t I?” he asked. “I _do,_ but I can’t watch him like this. I needed air, and then I left, and I still haven’t gone back. Some hero I am, huh?”

Diana just held him tighter. When she finally released him, she kept a hold of his upper arm. “We can go together, if you want. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Dick didn’t answer for a long moment. She could see the conflict in his eyes. Eventually, he gave a small nod. “Please.”

She returned the nod. Smiled a bit. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” 

* * *

Diana looked at Bruce now and wanted to cry. How sick she was of losing heroes, of watching old friends die.

Bruce Wayne had become her best friend over the years. It had been he and Clark that had brought back her old optimism and belief that humanity was worth protecting, him that had convinced her to once again pick up her sword and shield and fight as Wonder Woman. Hera, how much she’d miss him!

It was a habit of hers, wasn’t it, though? To come to care so deeply for people that would be gone in the blink of an eye. To love those she knew she would have to watch die while she looked exactly the same.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked – softly, gently, a tenderness Bruce once wouldn’t have accepted but now couldn’t bring himself to reject in her tone. He had to think about it, she could see, but he nodded.

“You’re Diana,” he said, feigning the confidence. She could hear a note of uncertainty in his voice, a touch of fear. She nodded encouragingly at him, taking his hand in both of her own and squeezing it carefully.

“That’s right,” she said with a smile. “I’m Diana. You’re Bruce.”

She leaned in to press a kiss against his forehead. When she pulled back, she gave his hand another squeeze. His eyes had grown almost blank once again.

This would have been Bruce’s greatest fear.

For a man that prided himself on his brain, what could be more terrifying than having it fail him?

She stayed there a while longer, but eventually, she got to her feet, whispered a promise that she’d be back as soon as she could, and left. 

* * *

Jason didn’t spend as much time sitting with Bruce as Dick or Tim or Cass did. He was _there –_ entered the room when Bruce was asleep and read aloud to him, brought Damian a mug of tea and dismissed it as nothing. But he refused to be around Bruce when Bruce was awake, and he did his best to avoid Dick as well.

It wasn’t hard to tell why.

It broke Diana’s heart to see how Jason’s belief that Bruce loved Dick more than he did his other children refused to die, even now.

It broke it even more to know that in a way, he was probably right.

Dick was Bruce’s eldest. His first child, his first Robin. He had been the one to save Bruce from a dark path, and the only one Bruce had taken in for entirely good reasons with no expectations as to what he should do, who he should be.

Bruce loved all of his children, Diana knew he did. But Dick was special. The golden child. He was irreplaceable, and the rest of the Robins had come as a result of trying to do just that.

Bruce’s memory of Dick being clearer than his memory of his other children had nothing to do with loving his eldest more and everything to do with knowing him the longest. But it was easy to see how Jason might see it that way.

Selina visited as well, but Diana never saw her there. The other woman dropped in at nights, usually, or at times when no one else was in the room, and vanished without a trace.

They were all floating, unsure of anything, and the only times it seemed to Diana like any of them really knew who they were and what they were doing unless they were on the streets and fighting criminals just like Bruce had taught them. Diana understood that, but it still made her sad.

She knocked on the door, out of habit and courtesy more than anything else, and entered.

He had aged rapidly these past few years. For so long, he’d looked barely, if not younger than, his age. He’d been fit, with few wrinkles and just a touch of grey in his dark hair. Now it seemed like he’d aged decades in just four years.

She reached out to him, touching his face with a gentle hand. His cheek felt frail and delicate beneath her fingers, as though he’d break if her touch was anything other than feather light. He peered at her through blank eyes that had once been fiercely alert and intelligent, filled just as much with life as with fatigue. Now…

There was a bright red, hand knit blanket wrapped around Bruce’s shoulders. Diana had to blink back tears at the sight of his frail hands clutching at it.

She could picture Barry knitting it, placing it around Bruce, trying his best to stay positive. Could picture him sitting down and talking to Bruce for hours.

 _The fastest man alive,_ Hal had once said about the speedster, _always late because he stops to befriend the people he saves._

Barry Allen, Clark Kent – the two of them were some of the most compassionate people she’d ever met. Bruce was as well, in his own way. He didn’t smile as broadly, nor engage in as much small talk, but this was a man that, despite having no powers at all, would run without hesitation into a burning building to save a civilian, would comfort a crying child while still wearing his cape and cowl, would adopt orphans that had nowhere else to go. _Had_ done all of those things.

It was what made them heroes.

They had all found a family with each other, and now one member was being ripped away from them. It was painful, and none of them knew what to do. None of them were ready to let go.

She took her seat across from Bruce.

There were notes placed everywhere in the room. Some were older, in a handwriting that Diana recognized as Bruce’s. It had grown shakier over the years, less clear and confident, and she could see that writing on notes as well. On other notes was Dick’s or Barbara’s or Stephanie’s. All of them were simple, just a few short sentences, obvious to anyone, except for Bruce himself. Things that he needed to remember. That he would rather die than forget. She read a few of them.

_Jason is not dead._

_Dick is Batman now._

_Clark visits every Tuesday._

_Selina is still your friend._

_Gotham is your home._

_You have five children._

_Your mother’s name was Martha._

_You are safe here._

_You are not alone._

_You are loved._

Diana swallowed hard.

Bruce had been through so much and experienced more agony than anyone should have to. He’d suffered enough for two lifetimes. As painful as it was to watch, part of her had to wonder if this was not in some way better.

He was dying now, but for the first time since she’d known him, he seemed almost at peace.

* * *

Bruce Wayne died on a Wednesday.

His eldest son – the gentle, emotional, loving one, the one who had best learned how to deal with those emotions – took care of everything. Made the funeral arrangements, called everyone that needed to know, hugged his siblings.

Bruce Wayne died and the city he had called home, the city he had dedicated his life to protecting, mourned his passing.

In his life, he had donated to countless charities, adopted multiple children, and helped thousands of people. The face he had displayed to the public had been only part of who he was, but it had been a part that Gotham had had deep respect for.

It was a quiet funeral, a private one, even as the whole city honoured the man.

Genius, hero, father, humanitarian.

Gotham was better off for having had such a man, and yet few would ever understand just how much.

Bruce had died, but Batman never would. 

* * *

Diana knew Dick would have invited Selina, but she wasn’t with the rest of the mourners. The Amazon could see her perched on the edge of the roof, and before she was consciously aware of it, she was moving to join her.

She got there quickly and sat down next to her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

They sat together in silence for a while, watching the people on the ground below them.

Jason, lighting a cigarette and scowling. Tim, arms folded and face ashen. Dick, one arm wrapped around Cassandra, free hand resting on Damian’s shoulder. Cass, leaning into Dick’s side. Steph, resting her cheek against Barbara’s head and arms wrapped around the older woman, blonde hair falling forward. Barbara, one hand covering Stephanie’s, looking as if the world’s weight were resting on her shoulders.

They all stood together.

“You know,” Selina blurted out, turning to look at Diana. “I always thought he’d die young. Go out fighting. That, or live to a hundred out of sheer stubbornness, then die when someone choked him for not shutting up. Dick said something once about having always thought Bruce would leave him in a box with jet black hair, that being Batman was going to kill him. I never thought about something like this.”

Diana nodded slowly. “Nor I. It’s surprisingly easy to forget that the people around me are almost always going to die before me. I never asked – how did the two of you meet?”

Selina laughed, and for an instant, she looked decades younger. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. He dragged me into all kinds of trouble. Lost touch a few times, but he always found his way back home.”

_Home._

Diana liked that, liked the way Selina had phrased that, the way the word had fallen so easily off her lips. Not a place, but an idea, a drive, a family.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, and Selina nodded.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“And what about the others?”

And at that, for the first time, the former Catwoman stiffened, suddenly closed off. Concerned.

“This isn’t the first time Bruce has given Dick Gotham,” Selina said, voice oddly flat, controlled. “Dick’s ready for it now. He knows how much Bruce trusted him. Enough to give him his city. But…whatever they might tell you, they weren’t as ready for this as me. He was their father.”

Diana surveyed the woman thoughtfully. Bruce had loved Selina so much. She had been his oldest friend, one of his closest confidantes, his soulmate. They had drifted apart time and time again. They had fought and argued and disagreed. But they had always come back to each other. 

They settled into a companionable silence.

* * *

Diana remembered the brief moments when Bruce had believed his eldest had been killed. The look of anguish on his face, the rage, the fury. The way he’d picked up a gun and pointed it at Alexander Luthor Jr., ready to pull the trigger.

Dick Grayson was Bruce’s son and Bruce’s heir, and for so many years, they’d been all the other had.

“Are you all right?” she asked. He was older now, and more solemn, but he was still the man she had met so long ago, just as kind and hopeful and decent. Time and loss had failed to crush him, and Diana couldn’t be prouder. He looked back at her with those piercing eyes, just as blue as ever, and nodded.

“I am,” he assured her. “This…there’s nothing I could have done. I…I knew it was coming. He’s not in pain anymore. I think a better question is, are you?”

“Me?” His question startled a laugh out of her, but she was quick to stifle it. “You’re concerned about _me_ when your father just died?”

Dick nodded again. “You two were friends for a long time. Not to mention…you’re immortal, Diana. Watching the people you’ve fought with die can’t be easy for you.”

She averted her gaze, looking down at her hands instead.

Bruce’s eldest child had always been perceptive. She wasn’t as close to him as Clark had become. Clark knew him just as well as he had known Bruce. Diana had known Bruce better, had known him first, had come to know Dick through him. But they still understood each other.

“I will be,” she said at last, once it became clear that he wouldn’t let it be. “The others?”

“Damian won’t admit it, but he’s scared,” Dick told her. She raised an eyebrow at him. He let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping. “Scared he inherited those genes, scared that what happened to Bruce will happen to him too. And I can’t…there’s nothing I can _do._ ”

He clenched his fists briefly, anger rising at the helplessness then dying away almost as quickly.

Diana looked him up and down.

He was dressed in an old Wonder Woman T-shirt, with a few holes in it, and ragged jeans. The clothes contrasted sharply with the Rolex on his left wrist that, if Diana remembered correctly, Bruce had given him for one of his birthdays. Every time she had ever seen him out of costume, he’d been wearing that watch.

One thing she had always admired about Dick Grayson was his ability to feel comfortable in his own skin, to handle the pressure and responsibility of all his roles without losing sight of who he was and who he wanted to be.

This was a clear demonstration of that.

He wasn’t dressed as Batman or as Nightwing. If a stranger were to pass him, if they didn’t stop, they probably wouldn’t even recognize him as Richard Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s eldest son. And yet, he was all of those things and more.

He was stressed, yes, and tired, and mourning, and concerned about the wellbeing of his family, but he could handle this. She knew he could.

He shook himself and managed to smile at her.  “Talk to you another time, Diana. Thanks. I have work to do. Check on the others for me?”

And before she could even open her mouth to respond, he was gone, moving with an acrobat’s grace, as agile as a cat and as free as a bird.

Diana didn’t know either Jason or Tim nearly as well as she knew Dick. She barely knew the former at all. But they too were Bruce’s sons, and they too would be hurting. No matter how much vitriol had existed between them at various points in time, they were still family, and no matter how much bitterness had festered between them, they still cared for each other.

She found them both in a diner, sitting across from each other. Tim was picking at his plate of fries. She briefly thought about joining them.

She didn’t.                                               

They were the two members of Bruce’s family that she knew least of all. Jason’s time as Robin had ended a decade before she’d even met Bruce. So much had happened while Tim had carried the title, she had never gotten a chance to know him.

She watched from a distance. She’d speak with them eventually, but now was not the time. 

* * *

In another life, Cassandra Cain could have been an Amazon.

Diana remembered something Bruce had told her once about his daughter, about her skill.

_She’s perfect, Diana. Gentle, more so than any of the rest of us. Won’t ever hurt anyone more than she has to. She has so much more self-control than I do._

Not good, not excellent – perfect. Cass, with her strange ability and understanding of movement, her endless compassion, was so suited for the life they had chosen to live.

She knew the second Diana’s feet touched the roof, turning to offer the Amazon a small smile.

“Hello,” she said quietly. Diana smiled back at her and returned the greeting, crossing the roof to sit next to her. She didn’t speak. Cass would talk to her when she was good and ready and no sooner.

They sat in silence for a while. Diana was almost startled when Cass broke it.

“It was never…about Bruce,” Cass said slowly, struggling to find the words but knowing without having to be told the questions Diana was there to pose. She tapped the bat on her chest. “We loved him, but Batman, Batgirl…it was about… _this_ , not him. The city will be fine. We’re here.”

“And what about _you_?”

“I –” Cass started to say, then abruptly broke off. Quieter, she admitted, “I miss him.”

Diana nodded, giving the other woman a half hug. “Yes. Me too.”

* * *

Bruce had never adopted either Barbara or Stephanie, but Diana knew that they were members of his family all the same. They had left notes for him just as Dick had, reminders of things he’d never want to forget. They bore the bat that had first been his.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“Worried about the others,” Steph said, leaning against Barbara. “Cass, Tim, Damian – they’re not handling it as well as Dick.”

“ _Dick_ isn’t handling it as well as Dick,” Barbara pointed out. She gripped the arm of her wheelchair tightly with her left hand, reaching up to her face with the other to adjust her glasses and pinch the bridge of her nose. “He just has other things to focus on. Cass told me that they’ve barely seen him since the funeral.”

There were many things Diana could say to that. She didn’t say any of them.

“But what about _you_?” she pressed instead. “This can’t be easy for either of you, either.”

Barbara closed her eyes as Stephanie wrapped a protective arm around her. Let out a long sigh. “He was family.” 

* * *

“Damian,” she acknowledged, inclining her head towards him. He was nineteen now, taller, fully grown. Just as tall as Bruce had been.

“Wonder Woman.”

Bruce’s youngest. His biological son, but in some ways, raised more by Dick than by Bruce. Dick’s heir, while Dick was Bruce’s. Talia’s child as well, one whose childhood had been shaped by the League, but also one that had fought with everything he had to be better. Looking at him now…

Bruce would have been so proud.

“Grayson offered me Nightwing,” Damian said at last. “Said it’s mine if I want it.”

“And do you?” she asked. He was silent. She let it drop.

He was proud, Damian Wayne was. How could he not be, his family being who they were? His mother was an al Ghul, the heir to the ancient League of Assassins. And his father…his father had been the one to create the Batman. Damian wouldn’t admit that his loss was affecting him. Not to her. Not even now, after so long away from his mother’s side of the family.

So Diana just reached out to squeeze his shoulder and let him be. 

* * *

She had seen to her old friend’s children. Now it was time to honour the friend.

Bruce had loved Gotham City with everything he had. He had spent decades fighting for it, protecting it, caring for it in every way he could. Gotham had shaped him, and he had dedicated his life to giving back to it.

Diana walked the streets of Gotham that night and paid tribute to all the effort Bruce had put into it over the decades, as Batman and as himself. She was not in costume – it was too soon for Wonder Woman to spend time in Gotham alone.

She entered the gelato shop that had been the first place in his city that Bruce had ever taken her. It looked a little different now, but the proprietor was still the same, and so were the flavours.

“Espresso, please,” she requested softly. It had been all Bruce had ever ordered. A single scoop of espresso gelato. The man got it for her. She accepted it with a quick smile of thanks. Left a generous tip in the jar. Bruce had done that as well.

 _Here’s to you, Bruce,_ she thought, taking a seat and raising a spoonful of the dessert to her mouth. A quote she had once heard, or perhaps read, came to her mind.

_Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire._

Bruce Wayne had saved thousands. Perhaps now he could finally find peace. 

* * *

“Do you miss him?” she asked Clark, dimly aware of how ridiculous a question it was, but he answered all the same.

“Yes.”

This would be harder for him, wouldn’t it? He was so much younger than her. He’d had so little experience with watching everyone around him age and die. But he could take comfort in the fact that one day, he would as well.

He wasn’t immune to the passage of time like her. He aged more slowly, yes, and he looked perfectly healthy now, just a few strands of grey in his hair and not a single wrinkle, but eventually, he too would die.

And she would be alone once more.

Princess, Bruce had called her. It hurt to think that he’d never address her like that again. Never address her at all again.

The word _princess…_ it was an honorific that could so easily come across as snide. And yet Bruce, one of the most bitingly sarcastic people she’d ever met, had never made it seem that way. It had been used with respect, respect for her and her power, with genuine affection and admiration.

He hadn’t used her name for quite a while after meeting her. Hadn’t really referred to her as _anything._ The first time he’d used it had been a shock. She hadn’t known how to react, hadn’t known if it was meant to be an insult, or an attack upon her abandoning her home like he had never done his.

She opened her mouth to say something to Clark, but instead, shook her head sadly, and walked away. 

* * *

 The pain of losing Bruce eventually lessened. She started spending more time in Gotham with his family, sometimes going out for dinner with the new Batman. He had his own favourite places, not all the same as Bruce’s, but Diana had to smile at the reminder that he loved Gotham just as much.

Diana had come to know Dick through Bruce’s stories. She had first met him as Nightwing. She had seen him on multiple occasions don the cowl and become Batman. Through time travel and travelling through dimensions, she’d even met him as Robin.

She had seen the best of him and the worst. His anger, his paranoia, his desire to see the best in people and his natural inclination to see the worst. His kindness, his protectiveness, his goodness. There was so much of Bruce in him. So much of _him_ as well as Bruce in Damian.

Bruce was gone, but his legacy lived on.

Years passed, then decades. Heroes set down their masks, and others died fighting for what they believed in. Each loss always hurt, but she always managed to recover and welcome each new generation of heroes, fight alongside them.

It was what she did.

If she had anything to say about it, it was what she would always do.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this right after Batman v Superman came out, so it doesn't really comply with what we know about Justice League. Also, my Selina Bruce dynamic is heavily based on their relationship in Gotham. So how badly did my attempt at mimicking the rapid scene to scene vibe of the movie go?


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